


Of Bananas, Bongs and Ben & Jerry's

by Saccharine_Steve



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: AU - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, But Steve is still BIG, Crack, Drug Addiction, High Functioning Drug Addict Bucky, M/M, Modern AU, OCs - Freeform, Oblivious Steve, Original Characters - Freeform, Recreational Drug Use, Road Trip, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, This is complete and utter nonsense, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-08-20 23:56:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16565585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saccharine_Steve/pseuds/Saccharine_Steve
Summary: 'Steve couldn’t remember exactly how he’d been coerced into packing up a Volkswagen bus with Tony Stark to drive across the United States. One second he’d been talking to the brunet about how much of the world he’d like to see, having only been far enough out of New York to visit Washington DC, and the next second Tony was excitedly making plans for a month-long trip.'---------------------------------------------------------Wherein Steve and Tony are taking a road trip, and things go awry. One bad banana leads to an entire bunch of bad bananas leads to recreational drug use and the zombie apocalypse.





	1. Bad Banana

**Author's Note:**

> Somehow a friend of mine roped me into writing this nonsense. Nothing in this story is meant to be taken seriously. I don't know how often I'll be able to update it, especially with the holidays coming up, because I have a few things I'd like to post for Christmas. But I'm going to try my best. I haven't done a ton of editing on this, so if there are typos, I apologize. No beta reader, so all mistakes are my own. 
> 
> Also, a note: Every OC in this story is a real person. I'm from Grand Junction, where our story begins, and this has been both hilarious and therapeutic to write. No one is safe. (Except for Twitch. That is 100% not that guy's real name.)
> 
> This is absolute trash. Enjoy.

_Well_ , Steve thought glumly, grimacing as he swallowed the mushy substance in his mouth, _this banana tastes like shit_.

The blond dropped what was left of the banana onto his plate, glancing around the quaint diner. After a weekend camping trip in the Utah Canyonlands, he and Tony had decided to treat themselves to breakfast. However, Tony had been outside on the phone with Bruce for the last half hour, and between that and Steve’s regrettable banana, breakfast wasn’t shaping up to be so spectacular.

Steve flagged down the waitress for another coffee refill, just as he received a slap to his shoulder.

“Alright, boss,” Tony moved around Steve to slide into a chair across from him, trademark smirk firmly in place, “the big guy says all is well back at the Big Apple. He also said to tell you that the Denver Chalk Art Festival is in three days.”

Steve perked up, smiling up at their polite waitress as she poured his coffee. “That sounds interesting,” he said as she walked away, fingers curling around his warm mug. “We should swing by.”

“Whatever you want, Captain. I won’t pass up the opportunity to drive through Colorado. You know it’s legal to smoke marijuana there now?”

Steve rolled his eyes and chose not to respond. Tony acted as though Steve was an old man, out of touch with the world, when the fact of the matter was that Steve knew a lot about the world, he just hadn’t seen much of it.

Steve couldn’t remember exactly how he’d been coerced into packing up a Volkswagen bus with Tony Stark to drive across the United States. One second he’d been talking to the brunet about how much of the world he’d like to see, having only been far enough out of New York to visit Washington DC, and the next second Tony was excitedly making plans for a month-long trip.

“Yes, I do know that,” Steve finally responded. “It’s been legal for quite a while now.”

The two of them ordered their meals and ate in companionable silence, which was a relief from their usual banter. For once, Tony actually looked tired and wasn’t running his mouth at ten miles a second.

The pancakes, at least, were far better than the banana Steve had been attempting to eat, and he finished scarfing down the syrupy, fluffy goodness with a delighted sigh, slouching back into his seat. He thought about all they’d seen over the past few weeks. They’d gone down the east coast and across the southern part of the United States. It was more than he’d seen in his collective 28 years of life.

They paid and exited the diner, crossing a dirt parking lot back to their bus. The first day of their trip, when Tony had pulled the old vehicle onto the curb out front of Steve’s apartment building, he’d been surprised at the rich genius’ choice of transportation. Once he’d climbed in, however, and seen that an actual miniature engineering lab had been set up in the back, his surprise had faded.

“I still don’t understand why you brought all of that with us,” Steve said. He climbed into the driver’s seat and gestured towards the back.

Tony gave a wave of his hands. “Just because I’m taking this trip doesn’t mean I can stop working on my designs,” he said. “There’s so much to be invented, Cap. And hey, we could always make some improvements to this  
old bus.”

“Stop calling me Cap,” Steve muttered back.

Tony acted as though he hadn’t heard.

The two of them drove towards Colorado, the strange, alien-like landscape of eastern Utah keeping them entertained. They stopped only once, in Green River, because they’d seen signs for ‘Green River Melons’ for miles, and Tony insisted they stop and see how good the melons really were. The town was pretty small, and it took them no time time locate one of the stands selling melons. They bought a couple, and Tony took them back to his ‘lab,’ where he mysteriously managed to prepare them into perfect little cubes. The two munched on the melons the rest of the way to the Colorado border, and Steve had to admit, they were pretty damn good. They were greeted by a wooden sign, white letters painted across it proclaiming, ‘Welcome to Colorful Colorado.’ The land stretched around them, still high desert, and Steve felt the sweltering heat coming in through their shitty air conditioning unit.

“You got something back in that lab that might fix the AC?” Steve asked, rolling down his window to let in a little of the warm, dry air. It was better than nothing.

“I might,” Tony hummed, eyes glued to his window.

“Well, you should consider making that your next project.”

Deciding it was probably time for a pit stop, Steve exited the interstate and joined the rush hour traffic that was passing through the small city they’d entered. A sign told them they were in Grand Junction, a town which Steve had never heard of, but apparently boasted a population of nearly 60,000 people.

“Jarvis, how did Grand Junction, Colorado get its name?” Tony asked out loud. He hadn’t fixed their air conditioning before leaving New York, but he had taken the time to instal his AI directly into the car.

“The city is named ‘Grand Junction’ due to the confluence of the Colorado and Gunnison rivers, sir. The Upper Colorado River was once called the ‘Grand’ river, but was renamed in 1921,” Jarvis answered, in his polite, British accent.

Tony hummed but asked no further questions.

As he drove, Steve kept his eyes open for a gas station. After a couple of miles, a sign for Natural Grocers caught his eye, and he pulled into a shopping center that had a few restaurants and clothing shops and parked in front of the grocery store.

“Natural Grocers?” Tony scoffed. “Why?”

“I want a drink,” Steve replied, turning off the car and climbing out. “And some bananas,” he added, an afterthought. Surely he couldn’t go wrong with organic bananas.

Steve didn’t see Tony roll his eyes as he climbed out to follow the blond inside.

The cool air of the store hit the two men as soon as the automatic doors slid open, and Steve let out a long, relieved sigh. The blond quickly located the Kombucha, much to Tony’s displeasure, and grabbed a bottle. He also grabbed a bunch of bananas and some trial mix, while Tony picked up a bottle of ginger ale.

“You can’t judge me for Kombucha if you’re drinking ginger ale,” Steve said, lifting an eyebrow at the shorter man.

“Wrong, Rogers,” Tony said. “Ginger ale doesn’t taste like fermented piss. Besides, my stomach gets a little woozy on the road.”

Steve held back a snort, and the two of them went up front to make their purchases.

After paying, small cardboard box in hand, they left the store. Steve, being the klutz he was, managed to run into someone on the way out, too distracted by Tony’s yammering mouth. He nearly dropped the box of drinks and snacks, but he caught his balance and grabbed the guys shoulder that he’d run into, to keep him from toppling over. The guy was thin as a rake, no match for Steve’s bulk.

“Whoa, sorry, pal. I wasn’t paying attention,” Steve smiled.

The guy had short, messy brown hair, and he looked spooked but relaxed when he saw Steve’s smile. Steve also noticed that his clothes were covered in paint splatters, especially around the collar of his shirt, and there were bits of it in his hair and on his face as well.

“You paint?” Steve asked, when the guy still didn’t say anything.

The guy's brown eyes darted between him and Tony, a nervous expression pinching his thin face. “Uh, yeah, man,” he said, nodding slowly. “I totally paint.”

Steve turned to grin at Tony, whose eyes looked like they were going to get glued to the back of his head, with how hard he was rolling them.

The guy continued on after a moment, “You know, I don’t live far. I took the bus. If you could give me a lift back to my place, I could show you my paintings, man.”

“Steve,” Tony started, but Steve cut him off.

“Sure, we can do that,” he said, still grinning widely. “Can’t we, Tony?”

“Steve,” Tony tried again. “This guy does not paint.”

The smile fell off of Steve’s earnest face, confusion filling those blue eyes of his. “What do you mean? He says he paints, so he must.” He didn’t let Tony respond, and addressed the stranger once again. “C’mon, pal. We’ll give you a ride.”

Tony groaned and grabbed Steve’s elbow, dragging him over to the van. The other guy trailed behind them, so Tony made sure not to speak too loudly when he hissed, “That guy doesn’t paint, Steve; he gets high on it,” right in Steve’s ear.

A frown creased between Steve’s eyebrows. Tony wanted to smack the idiot. “That’s a harsh judgement, Tony. You just met the guy.”

Tony only rolled his eyes again, as they reached the car. “Fine, whatever. But when he takes us to his crack den and holds us hostage, I’m going to say ‘told you so.’”

“That’s not going to happen,” Steve retorted.

Tony shrugged and climbed into the passenger’s seat again, while Steve let the guy into the back of the van, with a whispered warning not to touch anything. The guy’s eyes rounded like saucers as he looked at all the stuff Tony had stowed away, but he nodded.

Steve climbed into the driver’s seat and buckled up. “Hey,” he called back, eyes searching for their new companion in the rear-view mirror. “What’s your name?”

“Twitch,” the man answered.

“Nice to meetcha,” Steve responded, backing out of the parking spot, while Tony pinched at the bridge of his nose. “I’m Steve, and this is Tony.”

Steve followed Twitch’s stilted instructions, and within fifteen minutes they were pulling up outside of an old, rundown house. A sign had told them that they were in ‘Historic Downtown,’ and historic it looked, indeed. The shingles were falling off of the roof, which sagged too low to be safe, and the grass was overgrown with weeds. What appeared to be a once-white door was chipped and stained, looking closer to a shade of grey, and the screen door was hanging off one of its hinges, teetering away from the house.

Steve would’ve shrugged it off as being a poor neighborhood. Hell, he’d seen his fair share of them in Brooklyn, but the rest of the houses on the street looked relatively normal. Old, maybe, but in a cute sort of way, unlike the one he now stood before.

“Um,” Steve cleared his throat, standing on the sidewalk with hands on his hips, assessing the house. “Nice place.”

Twitch snorted but didn’t say anything and began to make his way inside.

Tony surpassed Steve, giving him a meaningful look as he passed, eyebrows high on his forehead. ‘Crack house,’ he mouthed.

Steve shook his head and followed the two of them.

The inside of the house didn’t prove to be much better than the outside. Wallpaper was peeling away in spots and was yellowed with decades worth of cigarette stains, and the hardwood floor was split apart in places and looked as though it hadn’t been swept in months. A tiny TV sat on a rickety pile of magazines in front of a loveseat that Steve didn’t want to come within ten feet of.

Aside from the sad state of the living space, cans of spray paint littered the floor, as well as paper bags, dozens of old syringes, and enough trash that Steve was surprised to be able to see any of the floor to begin with. He swallowed around the thick lump that had formed in his throat, and dared a glance at Tony, who stood with his arms crossed, giving the blond an all-too-knowing look.

“Shit,” Steve muttered under his breath.

Their new friend wandered off, somewhere deeper into the house. He called back to them, sounding like he was offering something, but Steve couldn’t make out the words over the rushing in his ears.

“You know,” Steve called back, “I just noticed the time, and we really ought to get going. We have a long trip ahead of us, and I don’t want to be driving after dark.” It was only noon, but Twitch didn’t know where they were going. It seemed like a reasonable excuse, even if it was stretching the truth a bit.

Tony snorted at Steve’s attempt to get them politely out of the situation but offered no help of his own.

“What in the fuck is all the racket?” a fourth voice sounded from a few feet to Steve’s left, and the blond turned to see a man emerge from a short hallway.

Considering the state of the house they were standing in, the man looked pretty alright. His hair was shoulder length, wavy and brown, and his eyes were huge and grey, drawing all of the attention. It looked as though he hadn’t shaved in a few days, long stubble spreading across the lower half of his face, and he was wearing a pair of soft-looking grey sweatpants and a red henley.

He also looked ready to punch someone.

“Uh,” Steve stammered out, eloquent as ever, “hi.”

The man lifted his eyebrows, bemusement etched onto his face. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Steve,” he responded. Then he pointed at Tony. “That's Tony.”

“Would you stop giving everyone our names, Cap?” Tony groaned. Steve could hear the eye-roll in his voice and didn’t bother turning around to witness it.

Steve didn’t respond to his friend but kept his eyes locked on the newcomer. “You live here?” he asked.

The man’s expression didn’t change, his eyes unblinking, shoulders tense. “You the police?” he retorted.

Steve blinked, taken aback. Why would this guy think he was a police officer, and more so, why would he be worried if he was?

Okay, so Steve could admit to himself that that was a stupid question. The heroin needles littering the living room were enough explanation for this guy to be worried about the police busting into his house.

“No,” he said, scratching at the back of his neck. Steve didn’t know what to do. Part of him wanted to run out of the house, climb into the sweltering heat of his ancient VW Bus, and drive away, never to look back. The other part of him, however, was way too curious about what he and Tony and stumbled their way into. The new guy looked way too healthy to be a crack head, and he obviously wasn’t dealing drugs, at least not well, since he and Twitch were living in complete slums. Steve had to know more.

The blond took a step forward, towards the guy, and even though there was still over ten feet between them, the man took a reciprocating step back and pulled a knife out of the waistband of his pants. The movement was so fast that Steve had nearly missed it.

Steve put his hands up. “Whoa, man. I’m serious. We aren’t cops.”

“Then what do you want?”

Twitch took that moment to reappear, eyes glazed over and fresh paint splattered over his face and shirt, bits of it speckling his hair. Steve tried not to look completely horrified.

“James, chill out,” he slurred, his face screwing up in what Steve was pretty sure was supposed to be a smile. “These guys gave me a ride home,” he paused, turning his stupid look on Steve. “The big one wanted to see my paintings,” he cackled.

Steve ignored the heat that was suddenly flooding his face. He wasn’t going to admit it out loud, but Tony had been right. This had been a terrible idea. “Yeah, and you let me believe you’re a painter. Not a very friendly thing to do, pal,” Steve retorted.

“Forget him,” the newcomer, James, cut in. “He’s an idiot. Half the time he’s so high he doesn’t even know what he’s saying.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed as he regarded James with suspicion, arms crossed over his chest. Even though they were traveling, Tony was still wearing his usual get-up of a tailored suit jacket and a tee shirt. He looked ridiculously out of place in his trashed surroundings. “Aren’t you two friends?” he asked.

James shook his head. “Nah, man. I’m staying here for a bit, but we aren’t friends.”

“Why are you staying here?” Steve asked. He couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to stay with Twitch, let alone in his disgusting house.

James shrugged. “You know, buddy, I still don’t trust you, so I’m not going to tell you that. But I’ll tell you what, if you and your friend ditch the paint huffer and come with me, I have way better shit.”

Steve’s mouth was already open in protest, having absolutely no interest in whatever ‘better shit’ this guy had, but Tony spoke over him, as per usual.

“What kind of shit are we talking about?” the engineer asked, far too much interest in his tone, if Steve had anything to say about it. “I’m all ears, Escobar.”

Steve was pretty confident when it came to defending himself, but even he would’ve cowered under the look that James turned on Tony. His whole face darkened, tipped down to exaggerate the shadows playing under his eyes and cheekbones. His grey eyes were flat and cold. Steve also couldn’t deny that it was kind of doing it for him.

“PCP, Ketamine, LSD, Synthetic Cathinones,” he listed off, voice low and dangerous.

“Whoa, okay, La Madrina, I’m going to stop you there. Bath Salts are out of the question, but the LSD has my attention,” Tony said, interrupting James, who looked like he could’ve rattled off a few more options.

“Tony,” Steve gasped, his face screwing up in horror. He wasn’t actually thinking about taking drugs from this guy, was he? Steve was going to have to put an end to this before somebody wound up kidnapped and tortured.  
“What the hell are you doing?”

Tony held his hands up, as if to say it was no big deal, and had the nerve to shrug. “Cap, calm down. Honestly, a little LSD won’t hurt. We came all this way for you to see some nonexistent paintings, so if Frank Lucas over here has something to offer, we might as well take it.”

“I’m not a drug lord, asshole,” James snapped, taking a few steps closer to Tony. The two of them were only a couple feet away now, and Steve felt his body tense, ready to spring at any moment.

“I apologize,” Tony said, blasting James with that thousand-watt, shit-eating grin of his. “Then what are you, exactly, in relation to drugs?”

For a split second the guy actually looked sheepish. “It’s recreational.”

Tony’s eyebrows went higher on his forehead than Steve had ever seen them go, and that was saying something. “You don’t look like an addict,” he pointed out. “No offense,” was added as an afterthought.

The murderous look finally slid off of James’ face completely, replaced by the same bemusement he’d entered the room with. “Why the fuck would I take offense to that?” he asked.

“You seem like the kind of guy that would take offense to most things,” Tony responded, shoving his hands in his designer pockets.

James didn’t argue. Instead he turned around to go back down the hallway, gesturing for Steve and Tony to follow.

Tony immediately started after the guy, but Steve reached out to grab his friend’s arm, drawing him to quick halt.

“Tony,” he hissed though clenched teeth, gripping to the billionaire’s arm a little bit tighter than he probably should have. “You can’t go with that guy.”

Tony gave him one of those mischievous grins that Steve didn’t like, brown eyes sparkling with bad ideas. He eased his arm out of Steve’s grip and gave the blond a pat on one huge shoulder. “Not alone, I can’t. That’s why you’re coming with me.”

Steve stepped back, shaking his head. “No, Tony. This is a bad idea. I’m the reason we’re here, and I should’ve listened to you. Don’t get used to me saying this, but you were right, and we should leave before something bad happens.”

“See, if you would’ve listened before, we wouldn’t be here, but now we are, and I want to have some fun,” Tony said, full-on grinning now. Steve wanted to smack his perfectly groomed goatee right off of his face. “So, Cap, you can either come with me, or you can go sit in the car.”

“Stop calling me Cap,” Steve muttered.

“Hey!”

The two of them snapped their gazes back to the hallway, where James had reappeared, his head peeking around a corner. His brows were drawn tightly together, a scowl set firmly on his face. “Are you assholes coming or not?”

“Yes,” Tony called back, marching right down the hallway.

Steve followed, hot on his heels, trying not to let his mind get ahead of him. They followed James down the hall, which bent to the right, ending at a single, white door. Some of the paint had been scratched off, and there was a splintered hole right in the middle of it, just about the size of a fist.

They pushed through the door into what was clearly a bedroom, but unlike the rest of the house, it was strangely well-kept. The small, twin bed was made, even looked cozy, with a set of dark blue sheets and a slate-grey bedspread. There were a couple of bookshelves that held everything from books and movies to pillar candles and trophies. Steve picked up one of the trophies nearest him, a little gold statue of a gymnast doing a backbend.

“You did gymnastics?” Steve asked, looking up at James with a surprised smile.

“This isn’t my stuff,” James responded. “If you read the name on it you’d know it wasn’t mine.”

Steve looked back at the statue and read the little plaque on it.

 

 

_First Place_

_Carol Danvers_

 

 

“Oh,” Steve said, placing the trophy gently back on the shelf. When he looked back up, James was still staring at him, his thick arms crossed over his chest.

“I did ballet for 23 years though,” he said.

The blond smiled at him, even more surprised, but pleasantly so. It showed in James’ body, long and lean and tight with muscle, his absurdly straight posture and grace, but the bulk of his arms and thighs seemed out of place. Maybe he’d taken up a different hobby since his dancing days.

When Steve didn’t respond, still grinning stupidly at James, the guy said, “Is that a problem?”

The smile slipped off of Steve’s face. “Oh, god. No, no not at all! I’m impressed. I’ve never been graceful enough to dance.”

Tony snorted and buried his face in his hands, shoulders shaking with laughter. Steve tried to ignore him.

James shook his head but turned around, facing what appeared to be a closet door. He pulled it open, revealing a small, square crawl-space door, covered in the same faded tan carpet that covered the rest of the room.  
Steve’s stomach twisted up in knots. James was going to bring them to his torture basement. They were like children being lured into a trap with candy, or at least Tony was. Steve was only coming along to make sure his friend didn’t do anything too stupid, and if they wound up dead, Steve was holding Tony responsible.


	2. The Earth and the Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve has quite the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I SINCERELY APOLOGIZE FOR HOW LONG THIS TOOK. Listen, I had most of it done for quite a while, but I didn't know how to finish this chapter. Believe it or not, I don't actually do drugs, so these things take extensive research (interviewing a friend of mine.) Haha! Anyway... parts of this chapter felt a little strange to me, but I couldn't figure out what the problem was, so if something is bugging you guys I'd very much appreciate some constructive criticism! (Also, as I said before, I have no first hand experience with LSD, so any feedback on that is welcome.)
> 
> ... Enjoy this trash.
> 
> (As always, I have no beta reader. All mistakes are mine.)

The basement turned out to be a lot less frightening than Steve had anticipated. It was finished with a wood laminate flooring, a fresh-looking coat of light grey paint on the walls, and strung lights all across the ceiling. It was also larger than he’d thought it would be, not a crawl space, but an actual, full-sized basement, equipped with a couple of couches, a television that was in a lot better shape than the one upstairs, and even a couple of gaming consoles.

“Okay, why is it so much nicer down here?” Tony asked, looking around the basement with his hands still tucked in his pockets. His brown eyes were wide, impressed.

James pointed a finger upward. “He doesn’t know about this,” he explained, obviously referring to the paint huffer. “Carol had started putting it together. I just finished it.”

“Uh, yeah, who is this ‘Carol’ anyway? And why isn’t she here?” Tony questioned. “Don’t tell me I’m going to stumble across a dead body.”

James tossed himself onto a couch, stretching out like a cat. “She goes to the University here,” he responded, heavy-lidded grey eyes focused on Tony. “It’s only a couple of blocks away. She’s home for the summer right now, though, so I’m subletting.”

“It doesn’t seem safe for her to be living with that guy,” Steve’s eyes drifted towards the ceiling, concern flickering in the back of his mind for a girl he didn’t even know.

James shrugged the best he could from his position on the couch. “I don’t know the girl all that well, but from what I could tell when I met her, she can take care of herself; she seemed tough as shit.”

Steve let it go. It sounded like the girl would be okay, but he still thought it seemed like a bad idea for her to be living with ‘Twitch.’ Seriously, who even called themselves that? The blond really couldn’t believe how his afternoon was turning out.

“Okay, Corleone, let’s get this party started,” Tony smacked his hands together in a loud clap, a wicked grin lighting his face. His brown eyes sparkled with that excitement that always made Steve a little uneasy.

James’ face scrunched up, his nose wrinkling, and Steve had to shut the voice up in the back of his head that immediately recognized how adorable the guy looked. He was not about to start crushing on some high-functioning drug addict he’d met less than an hour ago.

“Are you ever going to quit with the names?” James asked, not moving from where he was sprawled.

“I’ll run out of them eventually,” Tony supplied. “So, how about it, Barnes?”

James suddenly shot off of the couch, brows drawn together in a tight line and eyes alight with rage. His whole body was tense, like a wild cat preparing to pounce. Steve took a step back, preparing for a fight, even though he wasn’t on the receiving end of that look. Tony, however, didn’t even flinch. For being a genius, he didn’t have much self-preservation.

“What?” Tony asked. He glanced at Steve, eyes wide and bewildered, and then back to James.

“How do you know my last name?” James asked.

Tony’s face relaxed immediately into that same grin of his. “Buddy, I was referring to Leroy Barnes. I didn’t know that was your last name.”

James didn’t look convinced, staring hard at the other man.

“Seriously, James,” Tony continued, putting his hands up in defense. “I’ll stop with the name-calling, but that’s all it was.”

“You should take that offer and hold him to it,” Steve cut in, drawing the attention of both men. He swallowed nervously, an uncomfortable smile tugging at his lips. “You’re lucky if you can get Tony to stop calling you names. We’ve been friends for years, and he still does it to me.”

Tony looked back at James, smile wide as if he were proud to say that Steve was right about that.

James’ eyes lingered on Steve for a few seconds longer, ignoring the billionaire, before he finally cleared his throat and said, “Bucky.”

Tony’s head twitched to the side, smile fading. “Sorry?” he asked. “Are you calling us names now?”

Steve watched as James suppressed an eye-roll. “Call me Bucky,” he said. “Nobody calls me James.”

“The paint huffer upstairs did,” Tony pointed out.

Bucky shrugged. “He doesn’t know me that well. It’s not like we’re best pals.”

“But we’re your pals?” Steve asked, immediately wishing he could take it back.

Bucky’s eyes locked on his, carefully blank and unreadable. The gaze made Steve’s skin prickle and his cheeks heat. “Haven’t quite decided, yet,” Bucky responded.

With that, Bucky pushed himself off of the couch and moved across the room to a small cabinet. From it, he procured a small bag filled with tiny, white pills, and suddenly the situation caught up with Steve. He felt panic clutch at his throat, sweat starting to bead at his hairline. Damn Tony for making them stay, and damn Bucky for luring the idiot in the first place.

“Tony, I don’t know,” Steve whispered, grabbing his friend by the elbow. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“Steve,” Tony turned, clapping a reciprocating hand on the blond’s bicep. “This is not the first time I’ve dabbled in drugs. It’s certainly not the first time I’ve done acid. Chill out.”

Bucky walked right up to them, looking down at the bag. He carefully opened it, sliding the small, plastic zip, and pulled out one of the little tablets. He wasted no time in popping the tablet into his mouth, tucking it under his tongue, and handed the bag to Tony, who took it without hesitation.

Steve wanted to slap the bag out of his friend’s hands.

Tony did the same and popped one of the little pills into his own mouth, after inspecting it for a short moment. When he tried to hand the bag over to Steve, the blond only crossed his arms and gave the shorter man a stern look.

“Aw, c’mon, Steve. Pull the stick out of your ass and have a little fun,” Tony urged, nudging Steve’s side with a sharp elbow.

Steve side-stepped away from him, giving a shake of his head. “No way. Somebody has to stay sober.”

Tony gave him his patented eye-roll but didn’t push the subject. “Fine,” he sighed, handing the bag back to Bucky, “but don’t complain when we have more fun than you for the next twelve hours.”

“Twelve hours?” Steve groaned, eyes widening a fraction as he stared at his friend. “Are you kidding me?”

“Give or take, depending on your tolerance,” Bucky answered, plopping back down on the couch. He’d put the bag back where he’d gotten it.

Steve continued to shake his head. In twelve hours it would be the middle of the night. They were supposed to be on their way to Denver right now, but instead Steve was stuck with an addict he’d just met and one of his best friends, who had a complete disregard for safety in the name of fun.

He should’ve grabbed a sketchbook from the car, but he wasn’t about to go upstairs and deal with ‘Twitch’ again.

“You can watch some TV,” Bucky continued, as if reading Steve’s mind about how bored he was going to be. “Or play a video game.”

Steve turned to look at the man, ignoring the twist of attraction in his belly. “I’ll be fine, thanks,” he responded in a clipped tone.

Bucky shrugged, a wicked little twist on his plush lips. “Suit yourself.”

Tony settled onto the other couch in the room, stretching out with a satisfied smile on his dumb face, and closed his eyes, apparently settling in for the ride. It left Steve with no other choice but to sit at the other end of the couch that Bucky was inhabiting. He tried his best not to let out an annoyed sigh as he sank into the absurdly comfortable cushions, but he failed entirely, earning a grin from Bucky.

“You can’t complain, Stevie,” he chuckled, looking at Steve from under those heavy eyelids. “It was your choice to miss out on the fun.”

“I’m not annoyed about not doing _drugs_ ,” Steve scoffed, giving another small shake of his head. “I’m annoyed that we’re now stuck here, because Tony decided to get high. I’d rather be on the road.”

Bucky slapped a hand to his chest, those big, grey eyes widening in shock. “I’m wounded,” he said, atop a dramatic sigh of his own. “I thought we were friends.”

Steve snorted, sinking further into the couch. “I thought you said you hadn’t decided if we’re friends, yet,” he said. “You don’t even know me.”

Bucky’s wicked grin returned, and a shift in the air had the hair at the back of Steve’s neck standing on end. The brunet slid closer to Steve on the couch, until Steve could feel the heat radiating off of him, feel the soft puffs of air on his cheek as Bucky laughed at the blond under his breath. “Not yet,” he muttered, voice smooth and dark. The guy was turning the charm way up, and Steve couldn’t deny that it was likely to work on him. “But I could,” he added.

Steve looked at Bucky from the corner of his eye, not wanting to completely turn his head to face him. They were too close. “Well, sure,” Steve coughed in response.

“Why’re you so nervous, Steve?” Bucky drawled, leaning even closer. Steve felt himself turning bright red, about ready to leap out of his own skin from how tense he’d gone.

“I’m not nervous,” Steve muttered, still refusing to look at the brunet.

Bucky snorted, making Steve jump slightly. “Pal, it sure seems like you are,” Bucky said. “You need to chill out. C’mon, man.”

Bucky rearranged himself, reaching an arm back, and Steve finally looked at him. He was digging in his back pocket, eyes cast down at the couch as he searched, a focused tongue poking out from between two full, pink lips.

Whenever he found what he was searching for, he let out a little ‘aha!’ and looked back up at Steve. Being so close, Steve suddenly felt lost in those grey eyes, like he could sink right into them, drown in them, and be lost forever.

Bucky held up one of the tiny, white pills that he and Tony had taken, pinched between his fingers.

Steve frowned at him. “I’m not taking that.”

“Why not?” Bucky drawled.

“Someone here has to be responsible.”

Bucky looked around the room, eyebrows high, as though he were searching for the reasoning behind Steve’s words. “Why?” he eventually asked, his eyes locking back on Steve’s. “We aren’t in any danger down here. What’s there to be responsible for? It’s just LSD - basically harmless.”

Steve huffed out a breath, searching for a good response, but he wasn’t coming up with a whole lot more than the plain fact that he wasn’t the type of guy to take illicit drugs. He’d smoked pot once in college, and that was about the extent of his illegal consumption, and in Colorado that wasn’t even illegal.

So, lost for words, Steve shrugged.

“Not a very good argument, pal,” Bucky grinned, still squeezing that tiny pill in Steve’s face. “C’mon,” he continued. “I promise it’s not so bad. There’ll be pretty colors, and you’ll really feel a deep love for the Earth.”  
Steve’s face scrunched up as he tried not to grin. “I already love the Earth.”

“You’ll love it even more,” the brunet purred, leaning so close to Steve that they were nearly nose to nose. The blond felt himself go cross-eyed as he continued to look into grey eyes. “Whaddya say, Stevie?”  
When Steve didn’t reply, Bucky took the opportunity to slide onto the blond’s lap, and Steve was certain his eyebrows were about to leap off of his face. He felt his cheeks heat, and a heavy lump in his throat kept him from responding vocally.

Bucky snorted, squirming a little, and Steve swallowed down the small groan that wanted to escape his throat. If there was ever a time to keel over with sudden death, it was then.

“Fine,” Steve eventually got out, trying to keep his voice sounding even, though he was pretty sure it nearly came out as a squeak. “But only so I don’t have to deal with this for the rest of the night,” he added, gesturing vaguely around the room.

“You mean your friend, who seems perfectly happy in his spot on the couch, or my charm?” Bucky smirked.

Steve leveled him with what he hoped was a glare, but it didn’t feel very convincing. “Give Tony a couple hours, and he won’t be so quiet. As for your ‘charm,’ I’m not so sure I’d go as far as to call it that.”

“Don’t worry, pal.” Bucky squirmed again in Steve’s lap, and the blond wanted to smack him. “Give it time.”

Steve wasn’t so sure time would be enough to have him falling for Bucky’s ‘charm,’ (at least that’s what he told himself,) but he didn’t think on it for long, too distracted by the pill that Bucky had pressed against the seam of his lips.

Steve grabbed the brunet’s wrist, pulling his hand away, and he was definitely glaring this time. “Don’t push me,” he snapped. Bucky’s cheeks went a little dark. “Don’t I get a glass of water or something?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Are you serious?”

Steve continued to glare, not responding.

They stared each other down for a moment, one set of stormy-blue eyes locked on a pair of cerulean ones, but eventually Bucky gave in, sighing.

“Fine,” he grumbled, pushing himself back, out of Steve’s lap. “I’ll get you a damn glass of water.”

“Thank you.” Steve smiled sweetly.

Bucky paused to give the blond a dirty look, and as he slinked off, Steve was pretty sure he heard him mumble, “Amateur,” under his breath.

 

 

 

The painting on the wall, the one with mountains and trees on it, was alive, Steve was certain. The trees were growing out of the frame and onto the wall, and they were so _green_. So green and green and green and Steve wanted to reach right out and touch them, brush their soft branches and leaves with his fingertips, feel the energy of life thrumming within them. The mountains were over-saturated, vibrant pops of purple and blue, teeming with life. Steve thought that those mountains probably had so many streams and lakes and rivers. He’d like to go camping on those mountains. Maybe he and Tony could go there next.

A touch to his shoulder gave Steve a small startle, but he was slow to turn and look at whoever had touched him. When he did, he found the new but familiar face of Bucky, who was grinning from ear to ear. His beautiful grey eyes looked bigger than normal, so big he was sure they’d swallow Bucky’s face soon, if the guy wasn’t careful.

“Buck,” Steve laughed, reaching to grab Bucky’s face, cupping it between his hands, “the _trees_.”

Impossibly, Bucky’s smile stretched even further. “I told you,” he chuckled. “The _Earth_ , pal. The _trees_.”

“You told me,” Steve agreed.

The blond had no idea what time it was, but he was sure he’d been sitting on that smooth, laminate flooring for days, or maybe seconds. There were no windows, so he couldn’t see if the sun was up, but the room was alive around him, and that was all he cared about. Day or night, he was alive and so was Bucky and so was Tony and so were the _mountains_.

Steve could hear Tony in the background, his voice a never ending stream of consciousness, but Steve hadn’t been listening to him, too busy staring at the wonderful trees and mountains. Every now and then he’d try to tune in, pick up a few words like ‘specular reflection’ or ‘quantum entanglement’ or some other nonsense that he didn’t understand, and then he would check right back out, back to the trees.

“I _told_ you,” Bucky repeated, voice coming out a little muffled with his face squished between Steve’s strong hands.

The blond released his face but didn’t want to stop touching Bucky, so he pet over his hair, poked and prodded at his shoulders and chest, ran his hands up and down the man’s thick arms, until he came to a conclusion.

“Buck, you’re like the Earth.”

Bucky’s eyebrows went impossibly high. “Yeah?”

Steve gave a slow nod, sure of it. “Yes. Like, wow, your brown hair and soft skin and, Buck, jeez, your eyes are like the sky and the ocean; they’re filled with streams and rivers and lakes. Your eyes hold so much. And these legs!” Steve paused, grabbing Bucky’s thighs with both hands. “They’re strong! Like tree trunks!”

Bucky laughed and laughed. He fell over, sprawling across the hard, smooth floor and laughed until his stomach hurt and he was curled up, arms wrapped around his middle.

“It’s true!” Steve exclaimed, over the racket of Bucky’s fit.

Bucky’s laughs eventually died off, once there were tears gathered in the corners of his eyes, and he pushed himself back up, onto his knees. He crawled close to Steve, until he was sitting so that the two of them were knee-to-knee, and Steve had to lean back a little to clearly see Bucky’s face.

Bucky barely spoke above a whisper when he responded, “If I’m the Earth, then you are Moon, bright and luminous and powerful. You bring light upon the Earth when darkness descends. You make the seas rise and fall. You paint all life in cool, blue shadows.”

Steve’s mouth popped open, and his lungs tried to fill themselves with more air than was possible. “ _Bucky_ ,” he breathed. “My Earth.”

“My Moon.”

Steve reached up to grip onto Bucky’s shoulders, the fabric of his red henley soft under his fingers. He felt like falling into those big eyes, felt like letting them swallow him up.

Bucky reached up between them, and his fingers brushed over Steve’s lips, slow and gentle, and Steve let him feel. He took his time, touching every millimeter, every soft and chapped part. Bucky pressed down on his bottom lip, and Steve felt his the tips of a couple fingers dip shallowly into his mouth.

Steve felt his face heat more and more with each second that ticked by, overwhelmed by sensations, and then suddenly Bucky was drawing his hand away, coldly cutting those feelings off.

Steve almost protested, but then Bucky announced, “I’m hungry,” and his mind became completely derailed.

A cheeseburger with fries did sound pretty damn good.

 

 

 

_Blue is definitely greener than purple._

Steve was sure of it. He’d studied art, so he would know, right? Green was made with blue. So blue was surely greener than purple.

_Shit, god damn it._

Purple was also made with blue. So did that make purple green? Steve wasn’t so sure, now, and he was wondering what in the hell he’d paid to go to art school for. It’s just… the blue of Bucky’s jeans was looking more and more green the longer he looked at them. They definitely didn’t look purple!

_Or do they?_

Steve gave up, went back to staring at the most magnificent tree and mountain painting. The trees wouldn’t bother him like Bucky’s jeans.

He stared hard at those wiggling trees, their green branches reaching out towards him. The blue and purple mountains sprawling in the background. He stared until the shapes started to melt together, until the trees were crowded together to resemble a giant bush and the mountains became a bluish-purple smudge.

_Hmm_ , Steve thought. _Purple is certainly bluer than green_.

“I’m starving,” Bucky complained, pulling Steve from his moment of clarity.

The brunet was sprawled on the couch again, a hand tossed over his eyes in despair. Steve frowned, annoyed that he’d already forgotten what it was he’d been thinking about. He’d been onto something, he was sure of it, but Bucky had to complain about being hungry _again_. He’d only done it about a thousand times in the last five minutes.

Steve was still on the floor, but he’d managed to move a little closer to the couch, and they’d put on some movie that he didn’t recognize, which Tony was completely enthralled by.

Though he could still feel some of the effects of the LSD, his brain feeling considerably mushy, he knew the high was finally beginning to wear off. The trees were no longer moving in the painting that hung over the television, having melded into a puddle with the mountains, but the colors didn’t make any sense to him. Was everything green? He couldn’t tell.

Steve rubbed his hands over his face, groaning in displeasure; the lingering high was starting to annoy him. All he wanted to do was sleep, but he couldn’t; his mind wouldn’t shut the hell up, and Bucky wouldn’t shut the hell up about wanting food. Thankfully, Tony had already given up on trying to explain to them his latest project - something to do with a super robot that would protect the entire planet - but that was as far as the list of pros extended.

“Foooood,” Bucky groaned, once again interrupting Steve’s thoughts.

“Shut up,” the blond grumbled, hands still covering his face, muffling his voice. “How can you even be hungry?”

When Bucky had first brought up the idea of food, Steve was all for it, but the longer that image of a greasy burger floated through his head, the less appealing it sounded. There was only one thing that sounded even remotely good to Steve, and it was orange juice.

“Orange juice?” Tony grimaced. Steve must’ve spoken out loud. “What is wrong with you, Rogers?”

Steve wanted to sleep; he wanted to sleep and not wake up again until he was safely tucked into his bed in his Brooklyn apartment. He should’ve known better than to assume a trip across the country with Tony would be anything other than chaos.

Okay, Steve could admit to himself that being half-high and lying on a basement floor wasn’t necessarily ‘chaos.’ He’d certainly been in worse situations, but he couldn’t say it was all that pleasant, either, and now that the trees had stopped moving, it wasn’t even fun anymore.

“Rogers?” Tony’s voice grated in his ears. “You didn’t answer me. What is wrong with you?”

Steve only grumbled in response, smacking his lips a bit. He crossed his arms over his chest and shut his eyes, feeling the disgruntled crease forming between his eyebrows.

“Are you actually trying to sleep?”

“Shut up,” Steve snapped.

Tony snorted, but thankfully said nothing more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments give me stamina! Also, go follow me on Tumblr @ saccharine-steve

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, Kudos, Critique - all very appreciated. 
> 
> Side Note: Even though this story is meant to be silly and a complete joke, it is filled with heavy themes. I'll keep the tags updated as I go, so heed them. But if anything bothers you, please, please let me know.


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